Warmth
by Miniature.Clockes
Summary: Russia and America spend some quality time together during the winter.


**Warmth**

America was panting hard, the edges of exhaustion creeping upon him, but he wasn't going to quit yet, he was the hero after all, and heroes never lost. Taking a deep breath he made his move, revealing himself...

_WHAM. _

Right in the side of his face, knocking his glasses askew, he was hit with a particularly substantial snowball. _Oh this was war. _Quickly retreating back to his own miniature snow fort that he had created as a means of defense, he fashioned what he deemed a snowball worthy of a hero such as himself. This time he had to be more sneaky about it. He may not have had the advantage of being as familiar with snow as his adversary but he wasn't clueless about it. Enough of his states got snow (clearly because they were currently in a state blanketed by snow) that he could handle himself, plus he was hoping he had the home field advantage. From his snow fort he knew there was a giant oak tree nearly 4 yards away, so all he had to do was make a run for it from the fort to the tree, and then keep going from tree to tree as it brought him closer to his target. He nodded to assure himself, it was all mapped out in his head, there was no way this plan was going to fail him.

Looking at the snowball in his hand he grinned, got up an made a dash for the oak tree. As he got to it, he sighed, relieved. His plan was working well so far. Closing his eyes he envisioned his next tree of destination. It was even closer than his last run. Letting his grin grow, he bolted to the next nearest tree that could provide him with defense. He let himself chuckle as he saw a snowball fly past as he was protected enough by the tree. Euphoric from the progress he had made so far, he continued running from tree to tree, laughing jovially every time he managed to dodge a snowball, letting his cheeks flush from exertion. But when he reached the last tree before he had to make his final move he paused, mustering enough power to make his next move the winning one.

Coming out from behind the tree, ready to throw the best goddamn snowball of his life, he halted. His target was nowhere in sight. He was supposed to be at his own snow fort, ready to surrender. _Well, this wasn't exactly according to plan._ And then a heavy sense of dread creeped over him, but before he could make a move he was hit squarely in the back by a snowball with enough force to knock him over. It was game over.

Face planted in the snow he groaned. A heavy chuckle was heard from above him.

"I guess this means that I have won, da?"

Slowly lifting himself up from off the ground, America grumbled. "Yeah, alright, I suppose you won this time," he brushed the snow off his clothes and grinned. "But that's only because I was going easy on you. Next time, I'll beat your ass to the ground."

Another chuckle. "I'm sure you'd enjoy beating my ass."

America snorted, catching onto the double meaning behind the other's words. "And don't you forget it." He turned to grin at the man beside him, only to see that the other man was smiling. It wasn't rare to see him smiling, quite the contrary actually, but to see him smile so genuinely in a non threatening manner still caught the great United States of America off guard, but somehow it managed to warm him up completely, despite the frigid winter air. He smiled back, wondering if he had the same effect on the taller man.

"America, you must be feeling cold after all you are covered in snow." A hint of concern flashed through his eyes, which made America's smile grow wider.

"Nah, I'm fine." He wasn't going to admit it out loud, but yeah, being soaked by melted snow wasn't the greatest feeling in the world, but he'd rather not have the other one worry. "But if _you're_ feeling chilly, I'd understand. We can head back inside if that's what you want."

"Nyet, I am not cold. After all, I am the country of Russia, the cold does not bother me. ...Much. But I do think some hot chocolate right about now could be a very pleasant treat to be indulging ourselves in. What do you think? I can make you some Russian hot chocolate."

Practically drooling at the sound of hot chocolate, made by a breathtaking Russian no less, America quickly made his way back to his home, shouting behind him, "Last one in has to do the dishes afterwards!"

America sat at his kitchen table idly, kicking his feet a bit as he watched the man work around his kitchen. Russia was humming only what America could assume was a Russian folksong while he gathered the necessary ingredients to make his special hot chocolate. Oh how America loved that hot chocolate. He remembered the first time he had tried it many years ago, and how blissful it was. It was thicker than the average American hot chocolate, but it was still smooth, and it's smoothness continued as the warmth of the drink spread throughout him. It was intoxicating. The smells and taste of all the warm spices blended together with the rich chocolate, not to mention the shot of vodka the Russian always insisted on adding in; he was pretty sure the alcohol was an additional factor to the delight that came with the hot chocolate.

Indulging himself with all the scents that filled his kitchen, America decided to also indulge himself in the view presented to him. His eyes wandered appreciatively over Russia's backside, and as if one cue, Russia turned around, catching America in the act. Lucky for him, he thought, he was charming. Giving his most brilliant smile, he grinned at Russia.

The other man laughed. "You really think you're a charmer, don't you."

When it didn't give him the immediate results that he wanted, America immediately switched tactics, and pouted a little. "Hey! I am a charmer!"

Still chuckling Russia nodded in acquiescence as he approached America. "Da. You are charming."

America held his breath a bit as he watched Russia come closer, mentally cheering. His second tactic was clearly effective. As Russia brought his face down, level with America's, America leaned forward, ready, but before they could get any further, the distinct smell of something burning had entered his nostrils.

"Do you smell that?" America whispered somewhat huskily, still caught up in the moment, but sniffing at the air nonetheless.

Russia was much faster to responding, pulling away quickly and rushing over towards the stove. America let out a breath, disappointed that he never actually got what he wanted but he supposed that preventing his house from burning down took precedence. Looking over to see what the commotion was, he saw burnt milk spilled over his stove and the Russian seemed to be tending to what also looked like a burned saucepan.

"And I thought only England would be capable of burning things like milk." America laughed.

Russia stared at him. "Milk is easy to burn when it's not being kept an eye on. Besides, I think it is your fault for distracting me. Had I not been paying attention to you, I could have paid attention to the milk, making sure it did not burn and boil over."

America pouted, before a delightful scheme gathered in his mind. Getting up he wrapped his arms around the Russian's waist and reaching a hand out, he encouraged Russia to put the saucepan down.

"Sorry about distracting you then, how about you let me make it up to you?" America grinned.

Russia smirked in response. "You should be sorry. I hope your plans on making it up to me are agreeable."

Chuckling America's grin split wider. "Trust me, it is."

America arched his back as he lay on his bed. Russia placed hot kisses on his chest, working his way down, and America wasn't sure if he had much more patience for foreplay. There was just something about Russia that just got him so worked up that he just wanted as much as he could get, all at once. As soon as they had made it to his bed, America was quick in divesting them of their clothes, but that was where most of his control in the bedroom stopped. Russia was a controlled and dominant lover, which wasn't a bad thing at all. While he had sex with Russia, he trusted that Russia would take the reigns and ensure that both would find pleasure. As much as America enjoyed leading people around, sex was one of the few times he allowed himself to be led, letting himself fully let go and give in completely, and it was wonderful, even if it was frustrating as Russia tried to drag it out for as long as he could.

Russia's fingers brushed lightly against America's erect cock and America whined in response. Russia smirked and repeated the action, until America found himself bucking against the hand trying to get more friction. At that, Russia finally wrapped his hand around America's cock pumping it slowly as he at the same time kissed America deeply. America thought he might drown in sensations, the heat of Russia's mouth as a tongue plundered into his mouth, combined with the steady stroking of his erection, not to mention the scent of sex building up around them, America was drowning, and he was going to die, but if he was going to choose a way to meet his end, this was the way to go. But just as soon as he accepted his fate, Russia pulled away, and America felt oxygen rush to his lungs again. A soft kiss was placed on his forehead and Russia prompted America to raise his legs by nudging him behind the knees with his free hand.

America complied easily. He had picked up on the hints that Russia would give him early on. Russia never talked much during sex, insisting that he preferred it be be more about the sensations. Of course they did have their occasional bouts of rough sex, full of dirty talk, but in moments like this, Russia chose not to talk and America found himself admitting that Russia was right, it was _so much better _when you didn't fill the atmosphere with words, but with feeling instead.

With his legs propped up on Russia's shoulders, America squirmed a bit, watching the other. Russia reached out a bit to grab the bottle of lube kept nearby. Uncapping it, he squeezed a bit of the substance onto his fingers before rubbing it a bit, allowing it to warm up. Once his fingers were generously coated, Russia gently inserted a finger into America, carefully pushing past the tight ring of muscles. America sighed, it was slow and careful, but it was nice. He wriggled his hips a bit, encouraging Russia to continue, also giving a small reminder that he wasn't made of glass, and that Russia could go a little faster. Russia smiled as he worked his finger in, moving it in out a bit before a second finger joined it. The two fingers worked it's way deeper, scissoring and stretching at America's muscles at the same time, readying it for the third finger that was soon to follow. Once the third finger entered him, America's patience was running low, he tried to push his hips down and give out a whine, signaling that he wanted more. Russia only responded with a kiss to his temple, and America huffed. As soon as he was properly stretched and prepared, Russia pulled out his fingers, causing America to whimper at the loss, but he also knew that better things were to come. He closed his eyes, ready and waiting while he listened to Russia uncap the lube bottle again. Soon enough he felt the tip of Russia's cock nudge him at his entrance.

America took in a slow inhale of air as Russia slowly pushed himself in. America loved how full he felt whenever Russia was inside of him. As Russia slowly drew back, America let out a steady exhale of air. This process continued as America synchronized his breathing with Russia's slow thrusts until the tension between them started to rise. America could feel it, the air around him was warming up and he could feel the heat start to pool around his lower regions. Both of their breathing started to become shallower and Russia was now thrusting with more purpose. America's hands flew up to Russia's shoulders, digging his fingertips into the flesh, it was his signal that he needed more. Russia complied, by thrusting just hard enough to brush at America's prostate, while at the same time a hand returned to pumping his stiff cock. America moaned loudly at the stimulation, at this rate he wasn't going to last much longer.

He managed to stave off his impending climax for a while longer, waiting until that moment when Russia was close as well. He could tell Russia was close when his thrusting became more erratic and a soft grunt would escape his lips every now and then. With the erratic thrusting abusing his prostate America finally allowed himself to let go, a small cry released from the back of his throat as he spilled his load over his own stomach and Russia's hand. While America climaxed, Russia stilled for a moment, before thrusting mercilessly, his own cum releasing as he panted and slowly pulled out.

Both nations went limp as they laid on the bed, regaining their breaths. As soon as America felt he could speak, he did. "That was great." He mentioned as he rolled over so he could look at the man beside him and watch him nod.

"Da. It was."

Neither of them were much for post-coital cuddling or murmurings of sweet nothings, but America knew how they both felt. There was just that understanding between the two of them. They didn't need to express it as many other people did, during or after sex. Lost in his own thoughts, America was a slow to notice that Russia was staring out the window.

"What'cha looking at?"

"The snow. It's snowing outside."

America propped himself up on his elbows to take a look himself, and sure enough, it was snowing. "So it is."

"It's nice. The snow is always so beautiful, especially when it's fresh, like right now."

America listened carefully, he could hear the warmth in Russia's voice as he talked about the snow. He smiled. "So let's go enjoy it then."

Russia rolled to look back at America now, blinking, which only caused America to grin wider.

"You heard me, let's go enjoy it."

They were standing on America's front step outside as the snow fell around them. America had to admit that Russia was right about it being beautiful. The flakes were the large and fluffy kind, not the ones that were wet and made a mess out of everything. Standing there next to Russia as he watched the snow fall, he smiled to himself, it was a small smile, nothing cocky or obnoxious about it, just a simple one, happy for the simple moment he found himself in.

"America."

Turning when addressed, he faced the man who called his name. "Yeah?"

A soft smile surfaced on the Russian's place. "You're place is very nice in the winter. It feels, _warmer_, and not as desolate as when General Winter comes to my place."

America took a step forward, bringing himself closer to the other. "Well maybe you'd like to stay here for the winter then."

"Maybe I would."

Russia's smile widened more as he took his scarf and wrapped it around the both of them. America closed his eyes, chuckling at the action, for Russia that was probably a huge declaration of affection, and for America he wouldn't have it any other way. Taking a hold of the scarf as well, he put it on, so the both of them were bundled in it together. America smiled, eyes still closed, he could feel the warmth of Russia's breath touch his face, and he leaned in closer trying to feel more of it, at the same time as Russia leaned in. Their noses bumped and brushed up against each other before America decided to make a move for it. He closed the gap between them, sealing their lips together and if there was one thing that America learned right then was that for all the romance that Hollywood made out of kissing in the rain, it had nothing when compared to kissing in the snow.


End file.
